


Next time

by Runners



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: AU, Drunk AU, M/M, Mentioned Drunk Sex, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 22:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15350082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runners/pseuds/Runners
Summary: It's hard being in love with your best friend. It's even harder after a night spent with a stranger.





	Next time

_Newt could sense the heat coming from him. But it was dark. His eyes, his hair, his posture was so dark, but it was a darkness like rage. The darkness was so intense and fiery it was scolding, a muscly build that cornered him, and the way he smirked and laughed. Dark, and burning. It came off him like waves – sudden, violent, and unpredictable._

_In his drunken state, the vision was too foggy to see who was pressed against him so tightly; he drank too much to care, yet not enough, so he drank in every bit of the mysterious man. He swallowed his every breath, moan, and pant; his mouth was rough against Newt’s swollen, coarse like an old rug lip._

_He didn’t feel the pain from his limp when the stranger collided their crouches together, gripping Newt’s T-shirt tightly. Everyone was either asleep or too wasted to care for two guys making out on the dance floor._

_The stranger would seem like a shadow to Newt if it weren’t for the heat coming from his body. He let him drag him to another, this time empty room where Newt almost tore his shirt off when the door was kicked shut behind them._

_Everything else was a beautiful blur of fingers playing with raven hair, tongue marking every part of the hot flesh on its path downwards, and breathless pants leaving blond’s mouth. He couldn’t recall the man but could feel him everywhere, recall every place he’d been to last night. Newt’s dick twitched at the memory._

He opened his eyes, finding himself on a mattress alone. Place next to him was cold like first fresh snow announcing a winter.  He glanced around the room but found only his jeans tossed on the floor. Feeling the heat rush to his neck and cheek, he put them on before anyone walked in.

He exited the room, hoping to find the intoxicating guy from the night before, ask him out maybe – Newt not only felt like he should, he wanted to. Multiple people were passed out on the dark wooden floor and he tried not to stumble on any of them.

Teresa’s house was enormous – three floors with three or four rooms on every level. He found one door left ajar and he sneaked a peek; the sight in front of him shook and terrified him. At both of Tommy’s side lay two dark headed girls Newt knew all too well – Teresa and Brenda. Since high school the two of them had been at each other’s back fighting for the shank, and Newt understood, Tommy was - after all - smart, broody and handsome – everything a teenager wants.

Teresa always confided in Newt, bragged for hours about brunet. Tommy seemed not to notice the attention he was getting all along. Well, until now it seemed. Newt worried about Teresa. If she was half as wasted as Newt when it had happened then the awakening would be as hurtful as a fall from a cliff. 

He left on his tiptoes as quietly as only possible – which turned out to be quiet hard considering Newt’s limp. Yet, he made it without waking anyone up. He found his way to a kitchen and turned the kettle on, hoping to get some tea before the farther search of the mysterious lover.

He took out a cup and almost dropped it when he sensed a presence behind him.

“Minho,” he sighed in obvious and shameless relief. He closed the cupboard and went to make himself some tea, not asking his friend if he wanted any. “Bloody hell, I could’ve dropped it.” Newt waved the cup in front of his friend’s face.

“How did you sleep?” Minho asked with his a smirk, but this one was different from his usual one – wicked and cryptic; showing his pearl white teeth with a hint of a glint that disappeared as soon as it appeared.

“Good…Actually, I… um…” When did he forget how to form coherent sentences? “I spent the night with someone.”

“That you did,” Minho snickered devilishly.

“Wait you saw us? You know who it was?” Minho’s expression was priceless. His smirked dropped immediately replaced by something obscure – shock, disappointment perhaps? Newt had no clue.

“Y-you…”   
he coughed, “You mean you don’t remember?”

“I was drunk, Min! I remember little things, but it’s not much… But if you saw us…” The excitement was clear in his voice as the Sun rising from its sleep in the early hours of spring’s dawn. “Then I can find him.”

“And what then?” His voice was quiet - not yet a whisper - doubtful. “What happens if you find him?”

“That, my friend, is a tiny little detail,” Newt laughed heartedly like a child getting a toy on Christmas Day.  In all truth, he had no idea what he’d do, but he was sure he wanted to go for it. It’d been a while since…

Suddenly – having recalled old, bad days – he wasn’t so cheerful anymore. He remembered when in high school he and Alby were **the couple** yet after Newt’s accident after things grew worse after Newt almost gave up Alby announced he could no longer be with someone so broken – scared it would break him.

Newt had met Minho two months before his accident – he and Tommy stuck by his side – by the cripple’s side – no matter what. Newt found Minho attractive the very moment he had met him. He was not only incredibly handsome, smart and charming but despite what most of the school thought – astute and thoughtful. Yet, Newt was faithful and never made a move. After Minho and Tommy were there for him he simply couldn’t bring himself to risk the friendship. 

He hadn’t been with anyone since Alby, and now since the sought stranger. And it felt good. It made him feel like after all those years he could move on and be with someone – or at least try.

“What do you remember?” Minho furrowed his brows. He didn’t remember much but he remember how soft the raven hair felt under Newt’s rough fingers – he never touched Minho’s hair (he often wanted to) but he imagined they’d feel exactly like that under the thick layer of hair gel.

“The feeling of his spiked hair,” he answered dreamily, recalling as much as he could. His coffee was long forgotten as he confided in Minho. “And, bloody hell, he was hot!” Minho smirked for a mere second, but Newt noticed anyway.

“You remember him now?” He asked hopefully.

“No, what I meant is…  his body felt like it was on fire or… or maybe it was mine – sorry you probably don’t wanna know that much-“

“Nah, shank, keep talking.” He shrugged. So Newt told him all he remembered – he was feeling like a high-school cheerleader, gossiping like crazy. When he was done he waited for Minho’s verdict – it was one of those times Newt could not read his expression.

“I’ll help you. Where have you looked for him?”

“One room and trust me you don’t wanna bloody come in there.” Newt couldn’t suppress a shiver from running down his spine, making him cringe.

 “Why-”

“Just trust me,” Newt stated firmly, so Minho dropped it. “Alright,” he added after a while, “Where do we begin?”

“This floor, duh?!” And with that Minho turned around and left Newt with a dumbfounded expression.

The search took them almost an hour but they found no one who would even have black hair. _Are those really so rare!?_ – Newt thought. He followed Minho into every room but one – gay or not he did not want to see Tommy in that particular state.

“He left,” Newt mumbled, disgust filling his voice. His first hook up in years and the guy took off before he even woke up. _Was this night so terrible? Was I so horrible?_

“No, Newt-” Minho tried to convince him but Newt didn’t need pity.

“He bloody left, Minho.” He refused to tear up in front of him. “I had sex first time in years and the dude runs away,” he laughed bitterly.

“Newt-”

“Slim it, Min,” he snapped, “I’ll just… I’ll see you.”

“Let me at least give you a ride-”

 _Another thing I can’t do._ – Newt reminded himself. He didn’t want to push Minho away. He was always a good friend. Best friend. And today he made a fool of himself in front of him. He felt shitty, awful, used… And Minho knew. Minho saw excitement glim in his eyes, heard the thrill in his voice, but also saw it all fade away, replaced with humiliation.

No matter what happened Newt always stayed. And no matter what happened Newt always got abandoned. 

***

“Newt and you finally had some fun last night!” Teresa squeaked when she first saw Minho that morning. She was dressed in an oversized T-shirt, which seemed way too familiar for Minho’s liking.  “What?” Minho sighed heavily and put his coffee down. His face seemed tired and miserable and Teresa slowly took a sit, preparing herself for a long confession.

“We didn’t.” He shrugged.

“But… I saw you on the dance floor! You were all over each other!” she argued and Minho could only wait for her to stamp her feet down.

“That we were,” he admitted, “And I woke up before him, left to make some coffee and when he joined me he didn’t remember it was me the night before,” he sighed, miserable. After he heard from Newt that last night was a blur and he did not remember he spent it with _him_ he wanted to scream and cry and curse the world. Yet, for their friendship’s sake, he kept a straight face.

“And you didn’t tell him? Why?!” she yelled as if it was her he lied to.

“What was I supposed to say, huh? That I was yearning for this to happen for _years_ , that I’ve been _in love_  with him for years? That he didn’t remember our first night... I let him leave even though he looked like a tractor ran over him three times. What if he would regret it happened with me?”

“Well, now he regrets it even happened. Do you have any idea how it must make him feel?”

“Do you have any idea how I felt?” he yelled too fed up with Teresa’s unfair judgment, “I was so happy and he just… I can’t tell him.”

“Even if it makes you both miserable?” she asked.

“If I tell him… It might be the end of us, of our friendship, of everything we’ve built over this past few years,” Minho justified his actions.

“But it might turn much, much different. Don’t be a coward, Min. None of us ever took you us one so don’t prove us wrong now. Go tell him!”

“That was the crappiest pep-talk I’ve heard and I’ve heard bloody lots of them.” They turned at the sound of a familiar accent. Newt stood her with an emotionless expression. Minho swallowed a gulp in his throat not daring to speak up. “Resa, give us a second.” She stood up and abruptly left against Minho’s silent pleads and begging eyes.

“How much have you heard?” he asked shyly. He daren’t meet Newt’s gaze, too ashamed.

“Enough, I suppose,” he sighed and sat on a chair next to Minho’s, “How long?”

Minho’s throat went dry. He could feel Newt’s breath, his heat and it made last night that much vivid. Yet, there he was feeling like a child who was caught stealing candy.

“Since the begging.” He shrugged. “Newt, I-” The blond didn’t let him finish; instead, he grabbed him by his shirt and drew him closer. His lips were as demanding as last night, his tongue as fierce. Minho couldn’t help but melt against his touch.

“Tell me next time,” Newt whispered against his lips.

“Since when…?” Minho trailed off, insecurity still clear in his voice.

“Sometime after Alby… Or maybe even, while he was still in the picture. I’m not sure,” he shrugged.

“Tell me next time,” Minho mocked, familiar smirk finally taking over his features.


End file.
